


Texts from the London Lab

by londonwriter221B



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock BBC
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 10:08:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/londonwriter221B/pseuds/londonwriter221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has need of your lab services at St. Barts. At first, you think nothing of it and agree to help him and John on the case. Sadly, like others have learned, working with Sherlock has it's own heavy risks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Texts from the London Lab

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments!!!

The small bell above the glass door rings as you push it open and step into the dimly lit ambiance of the restaurant. 

“Hello ma’am, do you have a reservation with us tonight?” a grey host asks from behind the podium.

“Holmes?” You answer in a low voice, shaking the dampness off your jacket and tugging off your scarf. 

You follow the waiter to a small booth in front of the pub window and sit down, gesturing against the menu.

“I’m meeting someone here, I think I’ll wait on my order.”

The booth is cozy, with almost romantic feeling and the waiter just lit a small candle for your table and set it down in front of you. You smile softly. You know what John has always said about getting a candle for the table. 

The clock says 10:30 on the dot, and you double-check it on your phone.  
“Late as usual” you mutter and toss it aside. 

Rubbing your face with your cold hands, you count back on the number of hours that you’ve been awake. The number of times you’ve been from the lab and back to Baker Street, and back again. 

“On second thought, I’ll have a cup of coffee if you don’t mind” you shout over to the waiter, “black, two sugars.”

You return back to rubbing the sleep from your eyes and let out a long sigh. The clanging of silverware around you sounds almost rhythmic and you can feel yourself starting to zone out. The sound of the waiter placing your cup in front of you makes you jump up with surprise and quickly offer the waiter a shy smile of apology. You check your phone again.

Still nothing.

You check your recent texts and re-read them.

-Angelo’s at 10:30. Meet me there.  
SH

 

There was no point in you replying to it, Sherlock would already expect you there.  
The clock reads 10:50 now and you can see your waiter glancing over at you still sitting alone.

You watch as the people around you slowly begin finishing their meals and leaving as the night drags on. You could be home by now catching up on your sleep. God knows you need it what with Sherlock working you so hard in the lab, processing sample after sample of dirt, gunpowder and other mysterious substances. Your head hurts when you struggle to think of the name of the compound he wanted you to be looking for. 

Your phone vibrates with a text alert and you quickly swipe it off the table.

-Angelo’s 11:30.  
SH

He was running late.

You sigh heavily again and slouch back against the booth.  
Your waiter approaches you with a tray and places a glass of white wine down next to your empty coffee mug.

“Compliments of Mr. Holmes, ma’am” he says and takes your mug away.

“Well I guess he can be a little late,” you think to yourself, welcoming the bubbly drink.

Before you know it, you’ve downed the entire glass and are contemplating asking the waiter for another when you feel the sudden call of nature. Looking over your shoulder, you locate the loo and grab your phone to stand up.

The world suddenly begins to spin around you and you grab a hold of the table edge to steady yourself.

Drunk? No.  
Stood up to quickly? No.  
Your eyes look back at the empty wine glass sitting on your table. The outside lights catch the thick gleam of a residue along the border of the rim.

Drugged.  
Definitely drugged.

You feel your body sinking down to the floor and lights out.

A cold hand slaps your cheek and you jolt awake.

Erythroxylum!

Now you remember the compound!

You open your eyes and slowly focus on the circular muzzle of a gun a few millimeters from your forehead. You begin to recognize the abandoned cathedral you're sitting in, tied to a chair up on the altar. A perfect hiding spot. No one would know you were even there. No witnesses within a few kilometers to hear anything. 

You turn your attention to the man with the big boy gun and notice a group of three more behind him.  
One guarding the door, another having a smoke, and the other watching you with a fascinated smile.  
Must be a new guy.

The muzzle grazes your forehead and you can feel the slight warmth of the metal. Freshly fired. You find yourself worrying if they shot your poor waiter.

“Where is it?” The gunman demands, shoving the hot muzzle against your head again.

Now you recognize him. It’s the drug dealer Lestrade asked John and Sherlock to “investigate.” He was wanted for two counts of murder (possibly three if your dear waiter is out of the picture) and drug smuggling.

A sharp blow to your head knocks you from your thoughts and sends you spinning again.  
He repeats the question, raising the gun over his head for another strike.

“Where’s what?” You slur, feeling blood trickling down your cracked forehead.

“The shipment!”  
Ah yes, now you remember. Erythroxylum, one of the main compounds found in cocaine. He had been smuggling top shipments of it in and out of London…Sherlock managed to snag a case of it from a previous drug bust last week. He had given it to you for testing in hopes of finding chemical evidence where the main headquarters of the operation was.  
A cathedral. Brilliant.

“I—I don’t know” you stutter, finally gaining your composure again.  
Obviously he wasn’t convinced and your ears ring again with another blow from the back of the gun handle.

Your body suddenly begins to shake at the impact. Not sure how much more of this you can take. 

Your eyes pick up the faint image of a head of curly hair suddenly pop up from one of the pews in the back of the room and lunge for the nearest guard. Another flash of silver hair takes out another one and fires a shot at the new guy.

You smile.  
Looks like the trench coat wearing jerk and the silver fox are here.

You suddenly feel a pair of steady, smooth hands begin working on the tight ropes around your wrists and finally pulling you up on his shoulder. 

“John?” You whisper, so as not to make your head pound anymore than it is.

“I’ve got you, just give us a moment” a voice whispers.

Another shot rings out and you hear someone yell in pain and fall to the floor.

“All clear!” Lestrade yells and lines of armored officers burst into the area and start handcuffing.  
You open your eyes for a brief moment to see the leader clutching his freshly wounded leg.

Hope Sherlock got that one.

You feel the consulting detective hurry up beside you and take your other arm over his shoulder.

“I told you this was too dangerous” John mumbles.  
“’Too dangerous’ involves someone in the risk of dying, and no one is dead John’” you hear a deep voice answer.

Sounds like the two had been at it again.

The ambulance crew takes it from here, placing you down on a gurney and you hear the two crawl into the cabin after you’re loaded up.

“Just looks like a mild concussion, no signs of damage” an EMT declares, shining a horrifyingly bright flashlight into your eyes and making your head throb. “We’ll have to take her to hospital for surveillance for the night of course.”

“No, that wont be necessary” Sherlock’s voice protests, “We’ll need you to take us to the following address…”

You hear the ambulance driver and John begin to state regulations, but you can’t remain awake for the rest of it. Besides, you know Sherlock will win the argument.

Probably will end up flashing an ID stolen from Mycroft or Lestrade to get his way.

Your mind returns to you when you wake up in the flat. You fight to suppress your excitement when you realize your in Sherlock’s bed and you spot a tray of tea and biscuits set up next to you, a get well card with Ms. Hudson’s signature propped up against the kettle.  
You hear voices outside the closed door and recognize them immediately.

“I don’t understand why my room is the one that needs to be rented out like some hostel!”

“Because, Sherlock, mine still smells like your last experiment and it is no sterile environment! I can hardly sleep there anymore!”

A pair of footsteps suddenly head into your room and the red nosed face of John pops his head in. A grin spreads across his face when he sees you sitting up.

“Now then, seems like you’re up and cracking” he chuckles, pulling up a chair and reaching for your arm to check your pulse.

“You seem fine to me, but lets have you stay in bed for the rest of the day to be sure shall we?”

You nod and scratch at the thick bandages over your bruised forehead.

Sherlock emerges from behind the door and gives you a stiff nod.

“Glad to see you’re alright” he mumbles.  
John shoots him an irritated look and he takes another long sigh.

“And I would like to apologize for what occurred and against my better judgment, I will take the blame.”  
You stare up at the consulting detective for a moment without answering him.  
His eyes look tired and strained, but not from the days and nights you had been working in the lab. They seemed more exhausted with worry, even guilt.

For you? No he would never admit that.  
Perhaps John had set him straight. Who knows.

“How did you know where to find me?” You finally ask to break the silence.  
A small smirk hits Sherlock’s face and he suddenly seems to have more energy to brag.

“Made an important find in the lab, so I was running a bit late to meet you. On my way over, I noticed a group of men selflessly helping a drunk woman into a cab, when I realized she was actually out cold, and she was you. So naturally, I called John and Lestrade while I pursued.”

You gawk at him for a minute. He seriously saw the smugglers putting you into a car to take you away.

“Morons” you both grunt in unison, and share a quick grin with each other.

“Get some rest for today” Sherlock continues, “I’ll expect you back at the lab by tomorrow morning. I have some more work for you.”

John lets out a sigh. “You’re not assigning her to another case are you Sherlock? Look at the state the first one left her in!” 

You smile and quickly pat John’s hand to silence him.

You feel butterflies in your stomach. This was the most excitement you’ve ever had in your whole life! Why spoil it?

John throws his hands up and grunts. “It’s like there’s two of you now! Are you pleased with yourself?” 

Sherlock cracks you a swift smile and follows the doctor out the door, leaving you in the peaceful room again.  
You slide your hands around the bed until you find your mobile phone among the covers and quickly thumb a short text to Sherlock.

Meet me in the lab tonight @ 11:00.  
We’ll start early.

You sit back against the pillow and smile to yourself. This could be entertaining.

Send.


End file.
